


Actualization

by starfishing



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-22
Updated: 2007-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishing/pseuds/starfishing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If his sempai ever walked in on what he's about to do, they'd never let him hear the end of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Actualization

Akaya leans away from the showerhead to listen to the sounds beyond the running water. Silence. He's the only one there, he realises; it is late, after all. All the better. If his sempai ever walked in on what he's about to do, they'd never let him hear the end of it.

Back still to the curtain, Akaya breathes deep, feeling a little shudder inside of him as he wraps one hand around his cock. His skin prickles with the sensation as he pumps languidly, brushing his thumb over the head of his cock and letting his mouth fall open.

He's been half-hard since he caught Yukimura trying to conceal a hard-on earlier, courtside. It had been unbelievable at first — like a dream come true, most literally. He'd had to look three times before he believed it, each glance less discreet than the last. But there it was, Yukimura's eyes fixed on Sanada's thighs as he stretched, and his arousal straining at the front of his thin shorts even as he crossed his legs carefully to hide it, and when Akaya had looked up, they'd locked eyes, and his captain _smiled_.

A gasp, swallowed by the shower water, escapes Akaya's throat as he squeezes the base of his cock, pulling on it slowly. He moves to brace himself against the wall with his free hand, hanging his head and letting himself pant, nerves singing with every stroke.

"Akaya."

He gasps again, shocked at the voice and the jolt that ran through him at the sound of it, and looks over his shoulder, wide-eyed. In the doorway is Sanada, in all his naked glory — with a fucking hat on, Akaya thinks, and he'd laugh if he weren't rooted to the spot in mortification and terror.

"You're still here." It's hardly a question, which is lucky, since Akaya doesn't think he could have answered it if it were. It's a statement, laced with disapproval, no less, and edged with the hard tones of Sanada's fukubuchou voice. Akaya can feel the blood rushing to his face, and wonders where the hell his body got so much blood, because his hard-on is as persistent as ever, pulsing more heavily with every second that Sanada stands there.

While he struggles for control and presses the palm of his other hand to the wall as well, fingers twitching, Akaya finds to his horror that his eyes are drawn inexorably southward, until they rest, despite his efforts, on the proudly-standing arousal rising from Sanada's crotch. Akaya's face flushes darker and his cock gives a sudden throb, making him rake his nails along the tiles in a desperate attempt not to touch himself.

Another voice rings from behind Sanada. "Go on, Gen'ichirou." Akaya suddenly wants nothing more than to die. Yukimura — Yukimura- _buchou_ is right there, and Akaya was just thinking about being fucked into a bed by those same hips that are now sliding past Sanada's, sporting an erection of their own.

Akaya's sanity takes hold, and he tears his eyes away, looking back at the tiled wall and swallowing hard. His arousal hasn't abated in the least; his slit is oozing precum and every whispered word from behind him is making his heart beat in the head of his cock. He could just reach down and grab it; God knows it would be over in a second, and maybe they wouldn't even notice — but Akaya is seized with a vivid vision of himself, hand gripping his cock, doubled over and barely holding himself up on the wall, crying out for his buchou.

Oh, they would notice.

A third voice has joined them now, and before Akaya can even think of who it is (though he knows), a pair of hands is on his shoulders, and his skin is on fire under the now-lukewarm water.

"Akaya," Yukimura chides gently. "You know better than to be doing that in the showers."

Akaya, breath ragged, answers, "Y-yes, buchou." It's the only thing he can think of to say.

"After all," his captain continues, and Akaya can hear the smile and the mocking lilt in his voice, the way it sounds when he's talking to Atobe Keigo, when he's only _pretending_ to be nice, oh God, no — "if you get off after practice, the rest of us deserve to, as well."

Just as abruptly, Yanagi is there, a looming presence in the background of Yukimura's sinister overture.

"We couldn't have that happening every day, now, could we, Akaya?"

Akaya opens his mouth, stammers and gapes — Sanada's hand is on his cock now, rough and firm, and Akaya can't think through the haze of pleasure. He's riding the brink when he hears Yukimura issue a sharp reprimand, and Sanada's hand disappears. Akaya is left to press against the wall and seek release, but Yanagi's strong grip holds him back from even that.

He's moaning at the back of his throat, low and desperate, when Yukimura gently presses his knee to the back of Akaya's, collapsing him to the floor without effort. He hits his knees on the tile and the cool spray from the shower begins to soak into his hair.

Yukimura's hands are on his shoulders again, bending him forward until he's supporting himself with trembling arms. A few moments pass, Akaya's pulse pounding in his ears, and then a cool, slick finger touches the small of his back and slides down, swiping between his asscheeks to graze his entrance. It's a shot straight to his cock, drawing forth a throaty moan, and Akaya's arms give way. He presses his cheek into the wet tile, closing his eyes tightly against the water splashing off the floor, trying not to think too hard about the fact that _Yukimura_ is touching him, for fear that he'll come then and there. This is the best shower he's ever had, and he doesn't want it to end too soon.

The finger presses into him, a tight fit, but not yet painful, and works its way slowly in and out, twisting in the snug space. Beyond the water in his ears and his own groans echoing off the walls, Akaya hears Yukimura say, "Don't touch him." Sanada says something too deep in timbre for Akaya to understand, and Yukimura only replies, "This is enough."

It _is_ enough, more than enough. Akaya arches his back, pushing himself against Yukimura's hand as he works in a second finger. He makes pleading, wanton noises before his body's even adjusted, and turns a whimper of pain into a high-pitched moan when a third finger is forced in.

Then someone is pulling him up — Yanagi, his grip deceptively gentle — and Akaya wills his arms to hold him there as Yanagi levels his own prominent arousal at Akaya's face.

Akaya knows what is expected of him, and it's nothing he won't do, but he fears, suddenly, that he can't. The stab of anxiety makes his erection flag a bit; fortunate, all things considered. After a few encouraging words, his bravery gets the better of him, and he lifts a hand to grab Yanagi's cock, attacking it eagerly with licks and kisses.

His attention is further split when Sanada approaches, forcing him to switch hands and stroke Sanada's cock while lavishing oral attention on Yanagi's. It's like patting his head and rubbing his stomach, Akaya is thinking when Yukimura thrusts in.

He cries out, pressing his forehead to Yanagi's thigh suddenly. Yanagi's hand cradles the back of his head, but Akaya misses the admonishing words to his captain about his roughness in the waves of sensation that follow.

Yukimura is rocking inside of him, barely pulling out before sinking in again, holding him steady with one hand. Akaya is pressing back onto him, squirming, and he tries to pull his hand away from Sanada's cock to tend to his own, but Sanada won't allow it. His one abused arm is threatening to give way again when an insistent nudge from his vice-captain reminds him of his duties, and he resumes stroking, grip and pace unsynchronized.

Pushing his face away, Yanagi kneels beside him, reaching beneath him to take hold of his neglected arousal. Stars explode behind Akaya's eyes and he moans aloud, relief and ecstasy reverberating through the small space until Sanada muffles it, guiding Akaya's mouth to his hard-on with a rough tug.

He switches hands unsteadily, reaching blindly for Yanagi with his head turned the other way. Yanagi patiently brings his hand forward and places it on his cock, and Akaya begins to stroke slowly.

Sanada groans, deep in his chest, as Akaya's mouth covers the head of his cock, and Yukimura seems to take it as a signal, prolonging and quickening his thrusts. Akaya shouts, but Sanada won't let him pull away. The strong, demanding hand is now atop his head, and Sanada's hips are rolling forward, burying his length a little deeper each time. Akaya feels his stomach jump twice when the tip of Sanada's thick cock brushes the back of his throat, but Yanagi's hand draws his mind away from it.

Without warning, Yukimura drives in deep, and Akaya erupts into a long, keening wail just seconds before Yukimura does. Yanagi jerks Akaya until the younger boy's arm _does_ give way, then stands and pulls him upright again when Yukimura pulls out.

He and Sanada move to stand in front of a kneeling Akaya, each with cock in hand, and a faint feeling sweeps over him. They bring themselves off, right in front of his face, Akaya's spent arousal throbbing painfully as he watches. He is only hazily aware of Yukimura's fingers raking through his hair, and the other boys' fluids warm on his face and neck under the now-frigid water. Likewise, he only half-hears Yukimura laughing, saying "Muga no Kyouchi?" as Yanagi carefully lifts Akaya from the floor.


End file.
